Hey guys... It's been ages, I know and I apologise for this, I've been busy with a mixture of laziness and grade 12 school work. But here is a new chapter finally. To be honest, i wrote this one in 2013 around chapter 7 with the intention of ending the story here, at chapter 45 or some huge number like that. But I've chosen to change that a little, as you can see. So anyways, I would like to mention a few people who have really helped me get through this stupid patch of not wanting to write. Thank you so much to:

Jambee,

littlemermaid,

bibahsamah29,

oskaki ovi,

cherrypopper11

and all the others who never quite let me forget about this story! Those of you reading have these poeple to thank for this chapters and any still to come!

Enjoy

Rimah xx

...

"Mum please, don't do this" The woman's eyes were so dark and haunted as she held up the gun level with his blood drained face. Takaba had never felt such punitive fear in his whole life. The murderous intent he could see shining in his mother's eyes was so frightening… and he couldn't do anything about it. He had never been held at gun point before, he wasn't like one of those people he watched in movies that could disarm anybody and still live to tell the tale, he was helpless and unless the woman was simply using it to scare him, he was going to die. Then his thoughts flitted to somebody else, as though he wasn't even in that house anymore, as though the gun wasn't there at all and as though his mother had never come back home. His heart was beating a million times a second but the face inside his head simply made it better. He felt his heart slow to a softened gallop, feeling his breathing even its course as he stared straight ahead, seeing nothing but those perfect, golden eyes that seemed to penetrate Akihito's soul. One could simply never imagine how he felt, how the world didn't matter anymore and only the expression on another's face did anything to his own.

He didn't know why the tears came then, why not when his mother threatened his life? But they did, they came and they flowed from his eyes with such intensity that he had never experience before, and that hurt. They flew warm down his face and left bitter trails, until they came to the end of their silent decent and flew from his chin, pattering against his clothing.

Coming back to reality, he noted how his mother was now staring at his face in a way she hadn't in years, it wasn't loving but it was full of something other than hate, as she apprehended his tears and his own violently trembling form. He watched with such relief as she lowered the gun, so slowly that one who wasn't in his position, may not have even noticed. The sound at the front door startled them both, but his eyes never strayed from her face as she stared back at him. But when she realised who it was barging through that creaking, old door, the emotions on her face disappeared and the object in her hand lost it apparent great weight as it flew beck into position.

However, when the three men entered, each with a raised gun of their own and equally heightened expressions, Takaba's eyes betrayed him for only a second, but a second too long non-the-less. His eyes caught hers and the rage was back. She screamed something vile, but the ringing in his ears wouldn't dissipate enough for him to hear her words. Instead he followed her eyes, where they riveted furiously between the three intruders with their guns raised and aimed in her direction. Yet as Takaba looked between them, his eyes shadowed, and his heart back to beating a million time a second, his breath caught as they fell upon the real thing. Those absolutely incredible, soul sucking eyes, a slight shudder escaped him when the man caught his eyes in their grip, leaving him unable to turn away.

When his mother let out a startling, piercing scream, his attention riveted for only a moment from the beautiful man, to look at the furious woman, as her eyes looked him over, saw his longing gazes directed toward her rival and she screamed again. "Don't look at him!" She yelled at the Asami, stomping her foot like a little grumpy child , unwilling to give up her pacifier as she continued her chortles, turning to look back at Takaba. Instead of giving the crazy woman exactly what she wanted, the man standing in front of Takaba turned away from her mangled expression, perfectly in sync they turned toward the young boy instead. The mans eyes held liquid gold as they turned his way, and Takaba's breath caught in his throat at the same time the furious woman let out a piercing, high pitched whine.

He felt as the bullet tore through his chest, the instant sting only equalled with the shock as he flew back against the wall and collapsed to the ground, his ears ringing. Everything went alight, as though the world caught on fire, producing such a display that he stared in wonderment, his arms inching up to where the pain was most prominent. Feeling only wet and sticky liquid, he shook his head, wondering why on earth all the people in the room were staring at him in such a way. He didn't understand why his hand was shaking again all of a sudden, or why the balmy liquid covering them was died such a ghostly red. His mind was going so fuzzy, as though everything in his sight was growing fur. Asami's eyes more closely resembled two frigid golden coins than eyes at all and the look on his mothers face as she was restrained by more men in strangely recognisable uniforms, was… was so hollow she could have been mistaken for a ghost.

But she didn't matter anymore and he knew it, he knew it from the looks she gave him, and the way her mouth opened and moved in such an unusual manner, he knew he would never see her again.

And he smiled.

He didn't care that she was his mother, she hadn't mothered him in so many years and he knew she would pay for it. But even that thought came and passed, passed so fast that he barely even grabbed at it before it disappeared and was taken over yet again by the pain. The scorching, flaming pain that emanated from his lung, the pain that brought his breathing to a shallow movement, and ever slowly brought his heart to a soft rhythmic thump.

But at that moment, he had no choice but to swallow that pain, it was unimportant; it could wait, for at that moment the man in front of him was far more important.

"Hey...Aba… ay with me…" But that was all he heard, for even though the man kept his mouth moving endlessly and his hands roaming the youngsters body in such perfect light caresses and was pressing light kisses along his jaw, the only sound that soon he could hear, was a tuneless mellowed hum, one that would be used to charm a baby into sleep, or a crazed lion from a small child. One so perfect, he knew he would fail to fight it for long. And so he focussed the last of his thoughts toward the other being in which he would never forget, the one who had managed to help him feel something, he was once positive he would never attain.

But soon even that came to pass.

As all the living air escaped him, he deftly felt as his body was tugged into a warm embrace, as once again he felt tears fall from his eyes, ones that would never begin to show how much he felt in his last seconds. How he felt so warm and so perfect, being caressed so closely by the usually distant man. How the movement made him remember the first time they met, the door in his face, and the pair of eyes that would forever stay with him, though he would never have guessed it at the time. He remembered when the man had taken him in and given him a room, how he had told Takaba that his life was not pointless or useless. He remembered how the great man had saved him time and again from people that only ever sought to keep them parted. But most of all, he remembered the words that the man had last whispered to him, late at night, after the most exquisite experience of his life, how he had told him such a fine thing, one that he would never have imagined to be graced with in his life. He remembered when the great Asami, had told him he was loved, he was cared about and he would always be remembered.

Those words did never leave the mind, they were his saving grace, they saved him far more than any action or gift man could give, they saved him from an end where he felt so alone, so frightened and so without help. They preserved the smile even long after life had left his cold, hardened lips. They kept the life in his eyes even when the soul had escaped them. And forever, they would hold the key to saving the life of one teenage boy, a boy who had gone so long in the absence of such words, he had forgotten they could ever be so keenly anticipated, and so favourably received. He had forgotten how love could make a man feel.

The night Takaba Akihito took his last breath, the wind howled and the torrents of rain fell toward earth as though crying in profound grievance for such a loss. Inside the small apartment, when the commotion finally thinned; the woman having been finally subdued and the police had her escorted elsewhere, the silence left behind was all the more deafening. Asami still sat crumpled to the ground, still grasping at the tiny lifeless form in his hands, the one whose cooling tears coated his expensive jacket and who's open eyes tormented his very soul. Even the slight, frail smile left behind on the beautiful lips did nothing to suspend his guilt as it came rushing over him. He was shaking, had been since the minute the beautiful, young boy had stilled in his large arms. He had felt it all, as though living through every last moment with the boy, feeling the relief as his searching hands dropped, and as his head tilted downward and as his heart beat stopped dead.

He had experienced the death of many a man, each who sought something in their last moments and who died with nothing. But this young, infinitely less fortunate boy had died, triumphant and free of any chains or torments, he knew it, he knew it from the way the boy hadn't made a sound, how he hadn't plead for help or apologised for an unknown sin, not once. He had simply collapsed to the floor obviously in shock but staring only at Asami, letting every single emotion shown in his face, thanking Asami for something he didn't even know he had done. But Asami had not been so lucky, when he saw the way he crumpled to the floor, his hands coming up to his chest where the already bloodied bullet wound held his lung cavity. Even though he had ran to the boy and hugged him close, he was unable to do anything but whisper everything that came to his mind, telling his to breath, to stay with him, calling his name over and over and willing the medics to move faster.

But it had gone so fast, too fast. And now, he sat hunched over the boy with the indescribable sick in his stomach and his eyes suddenly springing to life for the first time in his life that he remembered. He had never cried, not since he was an infant, after all, he was Japans most respected and idolised crime lord, he was the bad man, the big man, but he had been brought to his knees by a poor, frightened kid. A boy that had weaselled his way further and further past every barrier he held until he knew that he had forever been captured. The tears fell from his eyes carrying great weight as they ran for their own demise, and his mind sought to grasp at everything while his gut ached beyond anything, yearning to console the inconsolable.

What could he do? He felt such strong feelings for a dead man, somebody who had had such a crap excuse for a life that Asami should be happy for him, if anything; that he had finally died and escaped it. But even though he knew this, he couldn't do that, he had promised the boy that he would change his life, that he would make it so much better and he would fix every missing gap. Gut in the end, everything had gone the same way. And he could do nothing.

And there it is. Let me know what you thought

Rimah xx